


"He's my husband." (he's not)

by notmadderred



Series: Daredevil/Punisher Fics [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Bisexual Frank Castle, Bisexual Matt Murdock, Comfort, Fluff, Foggy Nelson Is a Good Bro, Frank Castle Is a Saint, Gen, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Hurt Matt Murdock, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-09 23:31:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17414639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmadderred/pseuds/notmadderred
Summary: Matt didn't have time to process that he’d apparently been speaking without knowing it but also that Frank had picked him up bridal style and was walking toward a car like he was nothing.Matt starting moving around, rotating his hips in an attempt to dislodge Frank’s hold.Frank grabbed him tighter. “What happened in there?”“In where?” Matt shot back accusatorily, having chosen the new strategy of swinging his arms in circles like helicopter blades. This was considerably less effective.“In the -- the hell is this? What are you doing?”Matt sighed dramatically, flinging his head back and crossing one leg over the other (Frank wasn’t holding him as tight as he thought, then). “Carry me, peasant.”





	"He's my husband." (he's not)

“You’re so fuckin’ stupid, Red -- you know that?”

Matt was currently out of costume, and the fact that this was the first thing Frank said when he stumbled upon Matt’s prone form suggested he’d known Daredevil’s identity for a while now. The thought wasn’t exactly comforting, but because this was Frank, it also wasn’t _not_ comforting? Maybe? Matt wasn’t thinking straight. Heh, straight.

“I dunno what you just babbled on about there,” Frank said, his tone gruff as he assessed the damage, “but you need a hospital.”

“No!” Matt started to thrust his hands out and kick wildly where he thought Frank was standing. All he got was air. “No hospitals!”

“Red,” Frank said, and he’d definitely moved to Matt’s other side and knelt down and _Matt hadn’t noticed_ “you look like hell. And that’s sayin’ something considering you’re usually dressed like the devil.”

Ha, ha, ha. A real comedian, this one.

“I try,” Frank said, and Matt didn't have time to process that he’d apparently been speaking without knowing it but also that Frank had picked him up bridal style and was walking toward a car like he was nothing.

Matt starting moving around, rotating his hips in an attempt to dislodge Frank’s hold.

Frank grabbed him tighter. “What happened in there?”

“In where?” Matt shot back accusatorily, having chosen the new strategy of swinging his arms in circles like helicopter blades. This was considerably less effective. 

“In the -- the hell is this? What are you doing?”

Matt sighed dramatically, flinging his head back and crossing one leg over the other (Frank wasn’t holding him as tight as he thought, then). “Carry me, peasant.”

Frank practically threw his ass into the passenger side of a truck. He slammed the door shut, and the noise carved a fissure in Matt’s brain that had him covering his ears and yelling incoherently.

“Shit,” he heard from his left side. “My bad, Red. Hey, hey -- you’re all right, okay? You’re safe.”

Matt determined that this was not the case and sent a fist into Frank’s face.

Frank, who had reasonably not anticipated this, fell back and out of the car.

It took a few seconds for him to get back up. Matt heard him muttering on the floor about how, “of course this is what I get when I try to fuckin’ help,” and other positive messages.

Frank crawled back in and waited to actually start the engine until after Matt’s breathing slowed and he pulled his hands off his ears. “We’re going to the hospital,” he said, and Matt flinched.

“No, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You’ve been off your game, Red. Big time. And you look like you haven’t slept in at least a month.”

“Says you,” Matt snapped. He crossed his arms. “You probably get as much sleep as I do.”

“I’m not the one lyin’ in an alley and babbling to himself.”

Matt blinked. “What?”

“Yup,” Frank said, popping the ‘p’ and finally turning on the vehicle. It hummed under Matt’s feet. “I kept getting word that some crazy guy is running around and beating the shit out of people without a mask.” There was a brief silence. “Not your MO, Red, but they were definitely talkin’ about you.”

Matt hummed. “Nah.” He swatted a hand, hitting Frank’s face a little.

Frank sighed. The car started moving. “You probably got hit with something. Maybe about a week or so ago? Remember anything?”

“Nope!” Matt reached his hands out to the dashboard and sighed contently as its vibrations zipped up his fingers. 

“Nothin’? No… injections? Something like that?”

Matt moved to put his feet on the dash. Frank quickly shoved his legs down. “No,” Matt continued, unfazed. “I’ve just been…”

Wait. What _had_ he been doing for the past week?

“Uh. Chillin’,” he finished.

Frank snorted, which was mean, and Matt told him as much. Frank apologized quietly.

They drove in silence for a little while. “Wait,” Matt said, “are we still going to the hospital?”

“Yes.”

Matt assessed his own injuries. “Nothing’s broken.”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

“Because your head’s fucked up, Red.” 

Matt’s body shifted as the car made a turn. “That’s… not right. I have a nurse, you know. Someone who can help.”

“I’m not so sure that a rogue nurse can help with this,” Frank responded. He was starting to get annoyed. No, not annoyed. Miffed.

Heh. ‘Miffed.’

Okay, maybe something was wrong. It was probably just a concussion.

“I’ve been concussed before,” he said.

“I know,” Frank responded. “I shot you in the head. Protected or not, I knew it was bound to do some damage.”

“You made me deaf. Blind _and_ deaf. It was _horrible_.”

“We can talk about that later, okay? Right now isn’t… isn’t great.” The car stopped.

“Where are we?” Matt asked. He felt around him, searching for the car door handle.

The door opened. “Hospital, Red.”

Matt cawed and scurried deeper into the truck. His body dipped and fell into the driver’s seat. “You said you wouldn’t do that!”

“I didn't say anything. Now, c’mon. Don’t make this harder than you need to.”

Matt grumbled. Frank sighed and shut the passenger door.

The driver’s door opened. “Out,” Frank said simply.

Matt obliged this time. He was uncertain on his feet, feeling strangely lost. Come to think of it, he hadn’t been able to make sense of his surroundings all day. 

Frank looped an arm through Matt’s own and pulled him close enough for their bodies to touch.

Oh. Nice. That made it… easier to know how to step. 

And Frank was warm.

Matt made a soft cooing sound and let his head drop into the crook of Frank’s neck. The other man stiffened before quickly relaxing and murmuring, something something (since when did Matt not hear everything?), “out of your damn mind.”

“Are you talking about me behind my back?” Matt asked.

“Am I-- no. I am not talkin’ about you behind your back.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that.”

“Who’s the comedian now?” Frank asked as he stopped momentarily to pull open a door.

Matt scrunched his nose. “What do you mean?” They stepped inside. The air around him took on a sterile smell.

“I--” Frank sighed. “Nothing, Red. There’s a chair to your left. Do you feel it?”

Matt reached out a hand. Sure enough, there was a chair. “Chair,” Matt said.

“Yup. Go ahead and sit down in it. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Frank, of course, helped Matt to sit down. Matt rewarded the gracious behavior by petting the top of Frank’s head and saying, “You’re welcome.”

He sat there, hands in his lap as Frank strode off. His footsteps were distinct -- the way they pattered against the ground unevenly suggested he walked duck-footed.

Ducks.

Matt struggled to remember what ducks look like until he realized Frank was talking. Matt liked Frank’s voice. It had a natural rumble to it, a truck-on-gravel feel. He should put a hand to Frank’s chest when he talks to feel the vibrations -- Matt had it on good authority that they’d be nice.

“Yes, ma’am,” Matt heard. He smiled at the politeness. “He hasn’t been himself lately. I checked for everything you mentioned, so I really think it’s something he… I dunno, _ingested_ accidentally. Or maybe someone stuck him with something when he was walking home?”

“Walking home by himself?” the woman said, and her incredulous tone was one Matt had heard many, many times before.

“Yes. He’s blind, not incompetent. With the way he moves, it’s easy to sometimes forget. Ma’am.”

“Right. Has he ever acted like this before?”

“No. Not even when he was concussed. Like I said -- this is different.”

“All right. I’ll set something up. It’ll be about ten minutes before anyone can see him. Can you tell me his name?”

“Matt -- Matthew Castigliano.”

“And what’s your relationship to him?”

“He’s my husband.”

Matt released a soft squawk. Frank was his _what?_

“And your name, please.”

“Pete Castigliano.”

“Thank you. I’ll call you back as soon as we’re ready.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Frank strode back over, dropping heavily into the seat next to Matt with a sigh. 

Matt stared forward stiffly.

“Red?”

“Mm?”

“We aren’t actually married.”

“Oh, thank God.” All the tension left his shoulders. “I thought I’d forgotten something important.”

Frank huffed and squeezed Matt’s arm briefly. The touch was nice, and Matt frowned when it left.

“When we’re in there, you call me Pete, okay?”

“Okay. And we’re married.”

“Yeah.”

There was another awkward silence.

“Pete?”

“Yeah, Red?”

“We don’t have rings.”

Matt was pretty sure Frank shrugged at that. “Not all couples wear rings. ‘Sides, this should be pretty quick. No one’s gonna notice somethin’ like that.”

“Hold my hand,” he said.

A beat. “What?”

“I want you to hold my hand.”

“I--”

“Matt?”

Matt tilted his head at the call. It was coming from… his right side, maybe. 

Frank must have caught his unease as he quickly moved to help Matt up and in the right direction. 

“Room number three, please.”

Frank grunted a small, “Thank you,” and shifted slowly so Matt could adjust.

And just like that, he was sitting on a hospital bed, legs hanging off the side and swinging back and forth. Frank was in a chair nearby, close enough to touch. Matt made use of this when he heard someone starting to walk toward them and grabbed at Frank’s hand. 

He missed, of course, hitting Frank in the face again, and immediately spitting out a series of, “I’m sorry!”

The nurse chuckled when Frank said, “S’okay,” and grabbed Matt’s hand for him. The hand was hot and just a tad sweaty. 

“How are you feeling?” the nurse asked, his tone happier than Matt would’ve liked.

Matt frowned and glared. In his best attempt to match Frank’s gravelly voice, he said, “Angsty.”

“Red, what the fuck?”

“What?” Matt said, unable to stop the smile that blossomed on his face, “I’m being _you!_ ”

“And _that’s_ what I sound like to you?”

Matt lowered his voice again. “Yes.”

Frank sighed. “I swear he isn’t normally like this,” he said, most likely addressing the nurse.

“Oh, no worries. I’ll just need a sample of his blood. Is that okay?”

Matt leaned over to Frank, and he would’ve tipped right off the bed if Frank hadn’t released Matt’s hand so he could straighten him up. “Will that require a needle?”

“Yes.”

Matt _shrieked_ \-- he didn't hold back on this, meaning that he practically shattered his own eardrums for this effect. Its suddenness had Frank jerking to a standing position so his face was in front of Matt’s and--

Matt stopped. Nodded. “I’m ready now.” He stuck out an arm.

“For fuck’s sake, Matt.” He dropped his forehead against Matt’s (which apparently checked off some goal box in Matt’s mind) and took a deep breath.

Matt smiled again. “Aw, you were _worried_ \-- ah!”

The needle was stuck in his arm in the second he was distracted. 

“I’ll take the sample to Doctor Allan. She’ll let you know about the results as soon as she can.”

“Thank you,” said Frank, finally pulling his head back. Matt whined a bit, so Frank grabbed his hand again and sat back down.

Matt sighed, finally lying down on the bed, fingers still intertwined with Frank’s. It only took a few seconds before he was fast asleep.

 

When Matt was awake again, his head was clear, filtering the noises of heartbeats and doors and talking and machinery and general hospital sounds. 

He also remembered everything.

Matt blinked, forcing himself to keep his normal breathing pattern. 

Frank was still in the chair next to him, heart beating slowly. They were still holding hands.

Matt’s heart sped up.

The monitor beside his mimicked its sound, causing Frank to finally sit up from his stupor, his own heart rate rising a bit. “Red?” he said softly.

Matt swallowed. His mouth felt insanely dry, as if he hadn’t drunk a single thing all day. “Yeah?”

“How’re you feelin’?”

“Well, I’m not going to hit you in the head again if it’s any consolation.”

Frank snorted at this, head shaking slightly. “I’d be surprised if you managed that given your opinion of me.”

It was Matt’s turn to release an amused huff. “Fair enough. More like myself, then.”

There was a pause. “Good,” said Frank.

Matt tilted his head as Frank’s heart sped up a little more. “Someone’s coming,” Matt said, and this seemed to distract the other man as he turned to look expectantly at the doorway.

Sure enough, the nurse appeared. “Hello, Matt. Are you feeling any better?”

Matt gave the man a half-hearted grin. “Yeah. Definitely. What happened?”

“All we know is that you were injected with an experimental serum. Doctor Allan was able to purge it from your system -- it wasn’t anything too strong, but you may feel tired for the next few days. Pete, of course, will be there to help with that.”

Frank gave a smile that Matt suspected looked much like his own. “Thank you.”

“Are we free to go, then?” Matt asked.

“Of course. We just have some paperwork for you to fill out now that you’re up to snuff, and then you’re all set.”

The man left, scribbling something down on his paper. 

Frank cleared his throat. “We aren’t gonna--”

“Nope,” said Matt, pulling his hand from Frank’s grip. Part of him didn't want to, but this was the Punisher he’d been holding hands with. 

He pointedly ignored the way Frank’s breath caught in his throat and his heart did one of those tell-tale half-beats when Matt pulled away (every visible part of him was impassive, Matt knew. But Matt’s sight when beyond the visible, and it was time’s like these he wasn’t quite fond of that). “Are there cameras here?” he asked because Frank would know -- he’d scan the area out of habit at the very least. That, and quick escape lanes.

“No,” Frank responded as he rose from the chair.

“Good. I’ll make sure no one sees us as we go.” He hesitated to continue, and before he could change his mind said, “you pretend to be leading me, just in case.”

Frank swallowed and glanced briefly to the side. He did that every time he was uncertain or uncomfortable. “All right,” he said and looped his arm through Matt’s own.

It was easy enough to get out, though Matt almost did lead them out through a fire exit. Frank had pulled him back, heels dug deep into the floor and said, “Thought you were better than that, Red.”

When they were outside, Matt had sniffed the air with a frown. “Where the hell are we?”

“It ain’t New York, it that’s what you’re asking.”

Matt turned on Frank. “What.”

He shrugged. “Yeah. Took me a while to track you down. Can’t say I expected you to go to Massachusetts, but here we are.”

Matt turned in a quick circle. “I’ve… never left New York before. I haven’t even…” he trailed off, taking in the scents and architectural layout around him.

“Oh,” said Frank, obviously having no clue how to respond to that. “Well,” he said, and this time he was the one to break contact as he stuffed his hands in his pockets (his heart doing the _thing_ again. Matt would need to address it. Later, maybe -- it wasn’t fair for Matt to hide what he knew when Frank obviously didn't want him knowing), “you seemed pretty content to be here.”

Matt’s lips twitched upward. “Right. Sorry for…” he waved his hand broadly.

“For what?” Frank asked because he was a jackass.

“For being an idiot. And why were you tracking me down, anyway?”

It was petty to switch the topics like that, especially to something he knew would bother Frank.

Sure enough, the other man bristled. “We should get you in the car before anyone spots us.”

Matt shook his head. “No one’s on this side outside the building.”

“Oh.” He brought a hand to the back of his head and looked around. 

“So?” Matt said because he was also a jackass. (Oddly enough, he hadn’t felt the need to scrounge up a pair of glasses to cover his eyes, even as he pointed his face directly toward Frank’s.)

“Even if our methods ain’t the same, you’re doing good work for Hell’s Kitchen. Things started to get uneasy ‘round there when you took off. I figured I may as well bring you back.”

None of that was a lie, but Matt also knew by instinct it wasn’t the whole truth either.

They were alike than he’d previously thought.

“So,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “I guess we should head back if my city wants me so badly. I can’t imagine what Foggy must be doing.” Frank made a noise at this, which was enough to confirm Matt’s suspicions that Foggy was Not Happy with his absence. “I’d offer to drive, but…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sure you would.”

“Are you implying that if I wasn’t blind, I still wouldn’t drive?”

“I’m implying that you’re an asshole, so sure.”

“Well, fuck you too.”

Frank punched him in the shoulder, the motion natural when it happened, but Matt could feel Frank’s heartbeat pick up in surprise even as he started walking toward the truck. (Matt needed to say _something_. Frank didn't know he knew, and Matt realized from his past experience with Karen that pretending he hadn’t known (and then _using_ it) had been worse.)

 

Frank had been ready to drop Matt off outside his apartment and leave. He hadn’t even turned off the engine when he stopped and angled his head at the building. “Your place,” he said. “Get out.”

Matt grabbed the door handle. It occurred to him that he hadn’t really said thank you. In fact, Matt was certain that, while terrorizing the man in his awful state, he’d actually said ‘you’re welcome.’

“Well?” said Frank when Matt hadn’t gone after a few seconds.

“Do you want to come inside?” Matt asked, but the words were too fast and forceful, awkward when they left his lips.

(That wasn’t fair -- Matt recognized that he’d agree because he _knew that Frank_ …)

Frank was quiet.

Matt waited.

With a sigh, Frank turned off the engine. “Sure.”

And that was how they’d ended up sitting in comfortable silence at Matt’s apartment, each nursing a beer. Matt occasionally would take a breath, preparing to ask _something_ , but then he’d take in Frank’s heartbeat which was growing slower by the second. More comfortable. Matt hadn’t noticed just how strained he’d been.

Matt closed his eyes, letting himself just listen to those beats.

_Thump._

_Thump._

_Thump._

_BANG BANG BANG!_

Matt and Frank both jumped, and Frank actually spilled his beer all over the table and started spitting out curses as, just outside the door, “Matt! Please tell me it’s you in there!”

“Door’s open!” he yelled back as he grabbed the roll of paper towels and tossed them to Frank.

Foggy walked in, heart racing as he spotted Matt. Then he spotted Frank.

Frank was cleaning up his mess.

It occurred to Matt, then, that Frank may have actually been starting to fall asleep earlier. He probably needed it -- Matt had meant what he said about his habits earlier.

“Frank Castle?” Foggy said.

Frank looked up. “Uh, yeah. Hey.” 

He resumed cleaning.

Foggy turned on Matt. “Matt. What the hell. You’ve been gone for a _week_ and then when you show up, it’s with _him?_ ”

Frank didn't seem to take offense.

“It’s, uh, complicated. I apparently got injected with something and… well, it made me…”

“A chaotic drunk,” Frank finished for him, throwing away the used paper towels.

“Yeah. Sorta. That. And I ended up in Massachusetts.”

“ _What?”_

“Yeah. I don’t remember most of it, other than what happened today. Frank tracked me down and got me… all squirt away.”

Foggy shook his head, lifting his hands into a time-out gesture. “He tracked you down? And what-- threw you at some scientists?”

“Took ‘im to a hospital,” Frank answered before sitting back down.

“You put Matt in a hospital? How?”

Matt huffed. “You realize I’m right he--”

“He wasn’t exactly forthcoming,” Frank said, and Matt could hear the smirk starting to edge in, “but he also wasn’t in the right state of mind to protest. He was very…” He tilted his head as he searched for the right word. “Clingy.”

“I wasn’t _clingy!”_

“Oh, you weren’t?”

“No!”

“Then why’d you keep whining every time I stopped holding your hand?”

“I… I did not!”

Frank snorted.

“Okay, maybe I did, but we were pretending to be married, so it wasn’t unreasonable!” (Foggy made a desperate noise at this, but Matt wasn’t ready to explain)

“What was unreasonable was how you kept hitting me in the face.”

“You knew it was an accident!” Matt crossed his arms. “And that still doesn’t prove that I was clingy.” Ever the fucking lawyer.

“So you petting my head wasn’t clingy enough?”

“I--”

“Or screaming your fuckin’ head off about a needle?”

“Now _that_ \--”

“And how about having me still lead you around when you knew no one would spot us gettin’ out?”

Oh, shit. He did _not_ just bring _that_ up.

Frank was sitting down and, in appearance, very collected, but Matt could hear his heart racing.

Foggy was still off to the side, horrified, and trying to keep up with everything that had just been said. Half of it likely made no sense whatever to him, but he’d definitely picked up on how Frank’s last statement pissed Matt off.

Foggy cleared his throat. “Uh, guys--”

“Funny you should mention that,” Matt drawled, “but I’m guessing you aren’t exactly sure how my blindness thing works.”

Frank didn't respond. His heart did a skip. He didn't know.

“Every one of my other senses is amplified. A lot. Enough that I can hear your heartbeat,” he pointed at Frank, who stiffened, “his heartbeat,” he pointed to Foggy, whose face was now in his hands as he groaned, “and the heartbeat of every individual in the mile. And that’s without trying. All of my other senses work the same way.” He stepped closer to Frank.

Frank was growing extremely anxious at this point. Matt should stop. He didn't want to.

“So how about I ask you again: _why did you start looking for me?_ ”

Frank’s muscles and tendons started to strain -- he wanted to attack Matt; it was his instinct, his base desire, and one Matt was ready for him to act on -- before he closed his eyes and sighed, releasing all the tension. “You’re tellin’ me,” he began, “that you knew when I lied to you everytime that I did.”

Matt tilted his head. Where was he going with this?

“Then you know I didn't lie when I answered that earlier.”

Matt drew his shoulders back almost imperceptively, but it was enough to make Frank snort and shake his head. “You were just expecting something different.”

“Only because I’d already picked up on enough information before that.”

“Information?” Frank did his swallow-and-glance-to-the-side thing and huffed. “What information?”

Matt didn't answer because Foggy was here. He was trying to be somewhat considerate after being a fucking prick for the last minute. God, why was he so easily offended? And how did Frank know exactly which buttons--

“What information?” Frank repeated with a snarl as he snapped to his feet, forcing the chair back with a screech. “That I _like_ you? That I _care about you?_ Huh? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Matt’s head was angled down so he appeared to be looking somewhere around Frank’s chest. He hadn’t realized that he’d leaned forward and started clutching the edges of the table. “Oh,” he said. Because of all the things he’d been expecting, it certainly wasn’t that.

Foggy was literally holding his breath. He’d been inching back and out of the room, movements slow so as to not capture the attention of either vigilante.

“You do realize,” Frank continued, “that you don’t need super senses to pick up on things.”

“No.” Matt blinked. “I suppose you don’t.”

Both of them stood there.

“Okay, so, um,” Foggy said, waving his hands, “are you two… done? Has your problem been, like, established? Concluded? Whatever the hell just went down?”

Matt sighed. “I am not a functioning adult and it shows.”

Foggy turned to Frank.

“The fuck you lookin’ at me for? I already got Lieberman to rat on me -- I ain’t takin’ you, too.”

“Who?” both Matt and Foggy asked.

Frank grumbled under his breath. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll head out. There’s somethin’ I gotta take care of.”

He started to walk away, and Matt angled his head to follow those footsteps. _Pa-pat. Pa-pat._ He stopped. Turned around abruptly. Matt leaned up from the table when he realized Frank was heading his way.

Then Frank was cupping Matt’s face in his hands, drawing him in, and kissing him. It was hard and rough, lasting no more than a couple seconds, but there was a boldness behind it that had Matt lifting his hand slightly as if to reach for the other man. “We can talk… later. About everything,” Frank said, still hovering a few inches away.

And with that, he left, clapping Foggy on the shoulder as he went past. Foggy jumped because it’s Foggy and he’s terrified of the Punisher.

Matt was still standing frozen. 

“You _really_ know how to pick them,” Foggy said. “First Electra, now this?”

Matt turned to Foggy. “I-- didn't know I--”

“And you have a lot to tell me, Matthew Murdock. You went and got married without me as your best man?” He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

Matt shook his head. “It wasn’t-- I wasn’t--”

“And now I’m gonna have to babysit _two_ of you. Gawd.” He put his hands in his hair. “I’m gonna need to find this Lieberman person and start laying down a game plan to deal with you two, stat.”

“Foggy, we aren’t even--”

“The two of us can make sure the two of you don’t _die_ \--”

“Foggy--”

“And the two of you can keep -- I dunno -- jumping off buildings for no reason.”

“I’ve never--”

“I can’t wait to meet his archenemy. Jesus. I’m never gonna sleep again, am I?”

Matt gave up. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he offered.

Foggy sighed. “Thank you. No running off, please.” He stiffened. “Oh, God, please don’t run after Frank right now I swear to God if I catch you going out the window I will haul your dumb ass back in myself.”

“I won’t. Promise.” Matt held up a pinky, at which Foggy scoffed.

“Sure. Okay. I’ll trust you. G’night, Matty.”

Matt grinned. “G’night, Foggy.”

(He was definitely going to run after Frank.)

**Author's Note:**

> wow i'm the disaster. i just,,, wanted one simple story and kept switching between angst and humor so fast,,, it demonstrates my lack of control on life.
> 
> also, wow fogi boi. in the first fic u stop their moment and in this one u instigate it? is fogi God??? why must i kep using fogi?????
> 
> (Okay, guys -- I may later update this with Frank's POV because I had such a hard time determining which would work better. Lemme know if you're actually interested. ;) )


End file.
